Stranger Than Fiction
by Lia Reyes
Summary: AU, Brittana. Suffering from writer's block, novelist Brittany S. Pierce takes a retreat to her family's waterside cottage, living in seclusion, searching for a muse. Upon meeting her temporary neighbors, however, she gets that and so much more.
1. Chapter 1

AU, Brittana. Suffering from writer's block, novelist Brittany S. Pierce retreats to her family's waterside cottage, living in seclusion, searching for a muse. Upon meeting her temporary neighbors, she gets that and so much more.

I do not own any rights to Glee.

* * *

><p>"You sure you're going to be fine here?" her father asked for what had to be the hundredth time. Brittany sighed.<p>

"Yes. I have Lord T to keep me company if I get too lonely."

The cat in question was already inside the cabin, with the rest of her two large bags, a bucket, and meager amounts of groceries that would last her for at least a few days until she could get settled.

"You're positive?"

With a roll of her eyes, Brittany couldn't contain her grin.

"I'll be fine dad," she waved the satellite phone. The cabin was secluded, she was surprised it even got electricity. Thankfully it was located at the narrower spot of the rather smooth flowing river, so the power line had been run across from the opposite, more populated side, by a pole at either shore. In case of an outage, there was a generator, which could hold enough fuel to last for most of two nights, and an extra canister of fuel for it. There was no cable or internet - the satellite phone would be her only connection to the outside world if she didn't go into town.

"Okay honey. Remember, your grandparents are just a half hour away if you need anything."

"I know dad. I promise I'll be fine," the blonde insisted, ushering her father into the car.

"The caretaker will be by to check in once a month," he reminded her yet again, as he allowed her to push him to the 4x4 that he had followed her in.

"I know dad. Drive safe!"

She shut the door on him before he could reply. The car started when he rolled down the window.

"The emergency numbers are posted on the fridge. Mr Billings said there's more wood under the house, but there's enough inside and on the porch to last you for a few weeks. Altogether he said there's enough to last you all winter if you're still around for it."

"Okay dad. I got it."

"And be sure to call regularly. You mother is expecting to hear from you at least once a week."

"Okay."

"And if you nee-"

"DAD! I'm okay. I got everything. I remember. We're good. You're good. I'm good. Go home. You have a long drive."

The blonde man leaned out the window, placing a kiss onto her forehead.

"Take care of yourself sweetie."

"I will dad. I promise."

Finally, she thought, as he rolled up the window, and put the car into reverse. He cut the wheel as he backed up - most of the yard was dirt anyways, so it was fair game for driving on. Once angled properly, he put it into drive, waving once more at his youngest daughter before driving back down the single lane road that wove through the woods and away from the house. After about a mile of following it, it would cross the river on a narrow bridge that would fit two cars without much space left over. He would then be out of the insanely long 'driveway' and onto the main road. The bridge only lead to one place - straight to the cabin in which she was now residing. Brittany took in a deep breath of forest air, tilting her head back to look at the early afternoon sky.

There was hardly a cloud in sight, as the sun beat warmly down into her clearing. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the long forgotten image of her childhood.

There was a short dock that lead out into the river, about thirty feet from the left side of the cabin. The cabin was two and three-quarter levels tall, the bottom being strictly a storage unit. She walked to the right side of the cabin, to where a heavy, sliding wood door was secured by a hatch. Unlatching it, she put her weight into the push, slowly moving the door along it's frame. A string dangled from the loan ceiling strip light. The entry way was wide enough to fit the small, single cab pickup truck through, though it could house two cars comfortably. The truck was on loan from her grandfather, who had insisted that she would find more use for it out in the woods than he would at his lakefront house in town. In return, she had left her small sedan behind for him and her grandmother to use.

There was a kayak perched on two wooden stilts, as well as safety gear for it, and a metal cabinet that was undoubtedly filled with yard stuff. The back wall, furthest from the door, was stacked with several rows of wood, from ground to top. Another locked area held the generator and the hot water heater, electric of course. The water was drawn, filtered, from a well.

With a sigh, Brittany got into the truck, starting it before backing it under the house. Done she unloaded the five gallon gas canister from the back, as well as the couple of yard chairs and a cover that she had left in the bed. Putting the gas canister on the floor, she gathered the cover and proceeded to go out and toss the canvas, secured with bungee cords, over her newly road-adapted dirt bike, what would be her primary use of transportation for the rest of the nice months. She unpacked her riding gear into the cabinet before sliding the door shut, securing it once again.

From this vantage point of the house, she was facing a large tree that she remembered climbing with her sister when she was younger. A hammock hung from the lower most branches, a couple feet away from a fire pit, which had a metal grate over it that they had always used for barbequing. A picnic table sat at the side, and the blonde didn't have to look to see all of the drawings that Kelly and herself had carved into the wood as children. There was a small pile of wood, covered by a brown tarp, under the protection of the tree, designated specifically for the fire pit.

She briefly entertained the idea of relaxing for a bit before shaking her head.

Still had to unpack.

With that in mind, she made her way to the wide staircase, which brought her up to the screened in porch of the first level. True to her dad's word, to the left side of the porch was several more rows of cut and split wood, with a laundry string zigzagging above it. On the right a rocking chair and a small side table. A radio, which got all of three stations, sat on the table. She let herself into the porch, latching the door before letting herself into the cabin.

It was smaller than she remembered, though considering she hadn't been here in a few years that didn't really surprise her. To the left was a kitchen area - a vintage refrigerator that was just shorter than her. It had two shelves and a section for the freezer inside the actual fridge. Next to it was a space of counter top, three cabinets underneath and three on top. A toaster oven was the only thing that sat there. Beside the counter was a deep, basin like sink, with a window above it, looking out over the fire pit and tree. Next to the sink, in the corner, was the bathroom - with simply a toilet and a stand up, corner shower. The accordion door didn't offer too much privacy, but seeing as it was only her here, she didn't particularly care.

Next to the bathroom, on the wall opposite of the door, was a small wood stove, that was both the cabin's heater and the actual oven/stove top. It was big enough for two burners - on one of which was a silver kettle. A couple feet from the wood stove was a futon - she recalled the summers and vacations that her and her sister would spend sharing the bed. Lord Tubbington had already made himself comfortable there. Along the left wall ran a chest of linens and blankets, as well as what she was sure to be at least one emergency kit, though fresh candles were strategically placed around the one large room tastefully.

Though without cable, there was a flat screened television, on top a small entertainment system, that had a DVD player and an old Nintendo that she had to wonder if it still worked. She remembered crying when she was little because her sister would use the gun to kill the ducks on screen. With a shake of her head at the memory, she was glad she had remembered her CD case, already foreseeing the endless hours that would be wasted as she watched box-sets and movies that she had already seen hundreds of times before.

Behind the TV, opening facing her, was a spiral staircase. She managed to lug her bags up together, a feat given their sizes. The loft bedroom was small, big enough for a low-set queen sized bed, and an equally low, six-drawer dresser that ran the rest of the length of the half wall. An alarm clock and lamp were at the end next to the bed, and there was enough space on top to put her personal manuscripts of her already published books, her personal journal, as well as a binder of paper, notes, ideas, anything that could help break her cursed writers block. Next to it all she laid out her laptop, iPod, docking station, and chargers, prepared to be whisked away to the first level of the cabin.

The roof started to slant at either the front and back of the house at about four feet from the loft's floor, coming to a peak at the halfway mark. Opposite of the dresser was a large window that gave her the perfect view of her dock, the dock on the opposite side of the river, and the large stone cottage beyond. The curtain that she pulled to cover the window was burgundy colored - sheer enough to let in a comforting amount of light, but opaque enough to keep out the glare as well as intruding eyes. Not that she was concerned, once again. She set about unpacking her clothes, filling the six drawers neatly, before stashing her newly flattened bags under the bed, heading down to the bathroom with her toiletries. She put her soaps in the shower, hanging a towel on part of the fold door that jutted out, and her toothbrush, and toothpaste on the window ledge behind the sink. Beneath the sink she put the few cleaning supplies she had brought, to include laundry soap and a scrub brush.

She mentally sighed at the thought of having to do laundry by hand. On the upside it meant she wouldn't have to worry about breaking another washer or dryer, which she was all too prone to. She unpacked the few groceries, sorting out the handful of dishes and utensils that were already present, before returning to the loft, to make up her bed.

By the time she was done, the sun was a little lower in the sky, and she briefly stepped out onto the porch, to once again breathe in the natural air. In the middle of the front yard, just beyond the stair case, was a large flood light, when the switch was on, it was motion activated. It was bright enough, when lit, to illuminate the waterfront, the front yard, as well as the area near the fire pit. With a sigh she returned to the house, closing the heavy door behind her before crossing the room, sinking onto the futon, ignoring the irritating flick of Lord Tubbington's tail.

"Well Tubbs, this is our home for the next few months," she informed her companion, who accepted her unspoken apology with a purr.


	2. Chapter 2

AU, Brittana. Suffering from writer's block, novelist Brittany S. Pierce retreats to her family's waterside cottage, living in seclusion, searching for a muse. Upon meeting her temporary neighbors, however, she gets that and so much more.

I do not own any rights to Glee.

* * *

><p>The first night alone was odd, Brittany thought. But not necessarily bad. Trying to get the wood stove lit in the morning, to boil water, however, was. After the better part of an hour she finally succeeded, kettle finally simmering slowly. She moved about the cabin, opening the few windows to let out the heat she figured would slowly spread, before putting pop tarts into the toaster-oven. After her breakfast, she sat down on the futon with her computer, open to a blank document. She stared at the blinking cursor for what had to be a half hour before giving up.<p>

There's always later, she thought, putting the computer onto the linen chest and wandering outside. It was hotter than the previous day, sun beating down with hardly a breeze. She wandered over to the hammock, clambering in to lounge on it, comfortably warm in the shade. She stared into the leaves overhead, listening to the birds and other wildlife for a while before drifting off into a nap.

* * *

><p>It was three days of lounging, occasional exercise, and one and a half seasons of Xena before she decided that she needed actual food - which is to say the pop tarts ran out. Putting on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, she slipped into a pair of flip flops before opening the shed to get the truck. Sliding the door shut once more, she turned the dial on the radio, finding a country station, before heading into town.<p>

Franklin was the type of place where everyone knew everyone else and their business - almost like an entire extended family. As she pulled into the parking lot of the lone grocers, she killed the engine, climbing out. Walking through the automatic doors, she pulled one cart away from the bunch before wandering the surprisingly large store.

There wasn't much that she actually knew how to cook from scratch, which made it easy to skip some of the isles. This eventually found her in the cereal isle, clutching a box of _Fruit Loops_ as she looked over the other various colorful boxes.

"Oh my gosh. Brittany? Brittany Pierce?"

The blonde blinked at the question, turning towards the voice. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a very familiar smirk.

"Quinn?" she asked. Recognizing her old friend she grinned, rushing around the cart to hug the shorter woman. "Oh my gosh, Quinn! How have you been? It's been so long."

"You're telling me," the other blonde said with a grin, returning the embrace. "You don't text, you don't call, you don't visit. All I have are your books to remind me of you."

Brittany pulled away with a rueful smile.

"You've read them? I'm sorry."

The smirk returned.

"Why? You know, when you put the things in your mind on paper it makes a lot more sense than when you try to speak about them."

Brittany considered the statement. She had initially struggled with English when she was very young in school. Words had confused her, and not to mention the grammar rules. As she got older, through high school, and later college, she had worked hard to overcome the issue, finding it easier to write her thoughts with clarity than saying them. After all, with an imagination like her's, it was almost a crime to not share it with people.

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

Brittany thought it over for a moment.

"Honestly?"

"No, we both know that answer," Quinn dismissed with a wave of her hand. "I still can't believe you're back. How long you here for? You up at the cabin or in town?"

"The cabin. My publicist thought that because of my lack of new material I was too distracted in the city, so I'll be around until I find something to write about. Probably a few months."

"Are you going to your grandparents for the Fourth of July?"

Brittany blinked.

"They still do that?" she asked, surprised. She remembered when she was younger, and each summer they spent up at the cabin. On Independence day, her grandparents always hosted a huge pot-luck gathering out at their house on the lake, where most of the town would show up to socialize, play, eat, and watch the fireworks. She had just figured that when her parents, Kelly, and she had stopped coming down a few years ago it would have stopped. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Absolutely. It wouldn't be the holiday if they didn't have their annual cookout."

The taller blonde grinned.

"Oh, I'm there," she promised, before finally putting the cereal box into her cart. The pair slowly started heading down the isle, Brittany's attention now on her friend instead of cereal.

"Hey, do you know when that cottage across the river from me was built?" she asked, recalling her earlier curiosity. It had never been there before.

"Oh that was built last year. A family bought the land. Well off, a couple and their kid. They're...different."

Brittany grimaced at her tone.

"Different bad or different good?"

Quinn just shrugged.

"Well you know how it is here, outsiders take a while to be accepted."

Brittany hummed, nodding in understanding. She was lucky, even though she had spent only a few months of the year here while growing up, her grandparent's residency more than made up for it. Kelly and her had been considered more or less locals - all the acceptance with minimal of the small town drama. The pair chatted easily as they continued to circle the store, eventually making their way to the single active register. Quinn nodded for Brittany to go first.

"Well if it isn't the little Peirce kid. You're all grown up now," the bagging clerk, and old man with white hair and a bent back, said as he bagged the first of her groceries.

"Mr. Henderson!" Brittany recalled the man who had always given her and her sister pieces of candy when they had come in with their parents. "And Gracie. You're both still working here? It's so good to see you."

Gracie, the cashier, had short, greying hair. It had once been a light auburn, Brittany recalled.

"It's been too long Brittany," she said with her own warm smile as she continued to ring up the purchases. "Your grandmother said you would be in soon. How long you staying for?"

"Oh you know, a few months. Trying to get some new ideas for a book going."

"She's our little writer, that one is," Mr. Henderson said to Gracie, pointing at Brittany. The girl smiled at the fondness in his voice.

"So I've heard. Susan and David are very proud of you, you know."

Hearing that about her grandparents, Brittany wasn't surprised. As their only grandchildren, she and Kelly had always been their pride and joy.

"It's nice to be back," Brittany finally said. "I just got so caught up with college and my writing that I guess I sort of put this place out of my mind."

She had finished her the final book in her series the previous year, and had since been lagging. She just didn't have the aspiration to create another world full of fascinating characters and even more fascinating creatures. She mentally sighed.

Twenty-four was pretty young to give up on a career.

"I imagine three best sellers over the span of five years can do that to a person," Quinn dismissed.

"On top of a degree in Literature with a minor in creative writing," Gracie added, having heard all about the youngest Pierce through her weekly Sunday brunch with Susan.

To be honest, it didn't surprise Brittany that random people knew this much about her. That was just the way Franklin was.

"Will you be at your grandparent's next week?" Gracie asked the same question Quinn had earlier.

Brittany nodded.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything. Not again, at least," she replied with a grin, seeing her total on the screen. She handed her credit card to Gracie, who swiped it on the register before handing it back. After promising to meet them again the following week, Brittany followed Mr. Henderson, who stubbornly insisted on pushing the cart out to the truck, politely grinning as he went on about that one summer sometime ago that the girl honestly didn't remember.

He was too nice to turn away though. Thanking him after they had loaded the groceries into the truck, she waited until the older man was back into the store before heading back to the cabin.

Her most exciting day thus far.

* * *

><p>To answer a question - while I will be whittling away at this story little by little, unfortunately I don't know how often I'll be able to update it. I'm still trying to throw around ideas in my head (do I want to take it more angst or in a different direction?). To be honest, this entire idea kind of blind sided me - I was in class, in the middle of a test and all of the sudden I couldn't get this idea of a cabin in the woods from my head. Unfortunately for me, though perhaps not for you, it was persistent, and I didn't do too well on my exam, I don't think.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

AU, Brittana. Suffering from writer's block, novelist Brittany S. Pierce retreats to her family's waterside cottage, living in seclusion, searching for a muse. Upon meeting her temporary neighbors, however, she gets that and so much more.

I do not own any rights to Glee.

* * *

><p>After another week of still not being able to write, Brittany was glad for the distraction. She packed a small backpack with shorts and shoes to change into at her grandparents before sliding it onto her back. She made her way downstairs, making sure Lord Tubbington had enough food and water to last him for the rest of the day, before sliding into a pair of black leather boots, which fit snugly over her jeans. Zipping up a brown leather jacket, she got her helmet, closing the cabin door behind her as she went outside to start up her bike.<p>

As the machine idled she put on her helmet, her braid of hair tucked into it, before sliding on the blue and white pair of motocross gloves she had packed. Set, she shifted the bike into first before taking off, leaving her little shelter in the woods behind.

When she pulled into her grandparents driveway a half hour later, there were already cars lining the road next to their house and along the lake. When she killed the engine and removed her helmet, several wandering people called out greetings, recognizing her. She returned the sentiment before letting herself into the large, cobblestone Dutch colonial house that held so many childhood memories for her.

"Hello?" she wandered further into the house. She found her grandmother in the kitchen out back, with the French doors that lead to the large patio open, letting in a pleasant breeze.

"There she is," the lady said, wiping her hands on a towel before walking around the kitchen's island, pulling her youngest grandchild into a hug. "We're so happy you could make it."

Brittany smiled.

"Well, I haven't gotten a whole lot done, so a distraction would be nice," she admitted sheepishly. Susan Pierce clucked, shaking her head lightly.

"Somethings you just can't rush dear. Don't worry, you'll be back on track in no time."

"I hope so. I'm gonna go change."

With that she escaped into one of the first story bathrooms, changing her jeans for the shorts and boots for shoes. She undid the braid in her hair, letting the blonde locks hang loosely before exiting the bathroom, putting her backpack and helmet on one of the chairs in the living room. Her grandmother was still working away in the kitchen when she reentered, moving between what was at least ten crock pots of food - chili if Brittany was to guess.

The blonde wandered out to the patio, taking in the view. About a hundred metres of yard separated the house from the beach of the lake. The lot to the right of her grandparents house was a little town commons - complete with barbeque pits and a playground, as well as a gazebo area, where Brittany could see a band setting up their stage. Her grandparents worked pretty closely with the town hall for their celebration, and they generally brought in small, local bands to cover songs, while also having a DJ's booth to play more songs while the band was not performing. The entire thing reminded Brittany more of a small summer carnival, sans rides and price charges.

Different sections of the beach were set for games - a volleyball net, horseshoe pits, some frisbees, and of course a plethora of children's toys - though most of the young ones would spend a majority of the afternoon in and out of the water.

Spotting her grandfather, who was prepping several of the fire pits to be lit, she made her way down the stairs, across the yard, and to him.

"There's my little girl," he said as she approached. David Pierce was tall, probably where Brittany had inherited her own height from. "How are you kiddo?"

She smiled at the endearment.

"Not bad, Gramps. Do you need any help?"

His brilliant smile caused his blue eyes, another common trait that they shared, to light.

"Actually, I think Diane could use some help setting up the serving tables."

He nodded to one of their neighbors, an older woman whom often had babysat Brittany and Kelly during the summer when necessary. She had a grandchild who was just a couple years younger than Brittany, Sam she recalled. He had always been nice to her. With a nod to her grandfather, she made her way over to the lady, who was moving between several very long tables, and a pickup truck filled with boxes of supplies.

"Oh Brittany!" she spotted the incoming blonde. "It's so good to see you sweetheart. It's been too long."

Brittany hid her wince. She'd been getting that a lot lately.

"I know Mrs. Evans. Gramps told me to check if you needed help?"

The woman's smile was one of relief this time.

"That would be wonderful dear. We're trying to organize this in an efficient manner."

"Plates and utensils first?" she supplied. Diane Evans gave her a smile.

"Exactly. Then we'll put the main foods."

Brittany nodded, mentally cataloging it. Anything cooked on the barbeque first.

"Then condiments of course, and chips."

Large bowls of chips, she mentally corrected.

"Then the potluck foods, drinks, and lastly desserts."

The blonde nodded. The usual then. She aided the other woman, pulling the stacks of boxes off the truck, one by one, going through them to organize everything on the tables. Several rather impressive stacks of plates and bowls were at the table closest to the barbeque pits - probably enough to supply an army if Brittany were to guess. Then there were buckets of separate utensils. Several bottles of different condiments - ketchup, mustard, mayo, relish, salsa, and bbq sauce to name a few. Next were several stacks of burger and hotdog buns, followed by a decent span of table, which was clear, awaiting the many grilled foods that would eventually clutter it. As they moved on, Brittany ran to retrieve the several large bowls from inside her grandparents house, returning so that they could empty bags and bags of chips into them.

On the next table there was already a large container, the first of several, of chilled potato salad. It would shortly be followed by various chilis, other kinds of salads, and whatever other creative things someone would bring. They left two full tables free for that while moving to another, where they put coolers onto the table, filling them with ice and various canned and bottled juice, soda, and water. Cases of more went under the table, quickly able to be restocked. Another final table at the end was awaiting the impending mass of cakes, pies, and other sugary delights that people would bring in mass.

"That went so much quicker dear," Diane said, giving Brittany an affection pat on her shoulder. The blonde smiled.

"No problem Mrs. Evans," she replied, understanding the silent thanks. Taking her leave, she made her way to the stage, offering to help once again. Thankfully there were electrical outlets available on the spot, so the biggest concern was just setting up the speakers and DJ's table. With her to once again help speed up the work, the small group finished shortly later.

"I think we can call this a success kiddo," her grandfather surprised her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to pull the blonde close to his side. She relaxed into the half hug with a smile.

"How about we go check on your Gram?"

Brittany nodded at the idea, letting her grandfather lead her back to the house.

"Oh are you here to help?" the woman asked at their appearance, her grey eyes hopeful. Brittany's nod answered for the both of them.

"Great. We have the spicy chili and the sweet chili, so I want them separate when you put them out."

Brittany shared a grin with her grandfather, as the pair got to work transferring the dishes outside as ordered. By this time people had slowly started to file in, putting their own foods on the tables before mingling with other guests. At some point, Brittany didn't notice exactly when, the band had started playing. No actual songs yet, just background music.

"Hey B!"

The tall blonde was surprised from a bump to her hip. She spun, grinning at her friend.

"Hey Q. What did you bring?"

The shorter blonde rolled her eyes.

"Mom brought brownies."

It was the only thing the eldest Fabray knew how to make, Brittany recalled.

"She does have good brownies," Brittany pointed out.

It was true. While not much of anything in the kitchen, Judy Fabray made the best brownies Brittany could ever remember having tasted in her life.

"When can we eat? I want one now."

This earned a laugh from Quinn, who simply shook her head.

"So glad you haven't changed," she said after calming down. With a surprising show of affection, the shorter blonde linked her arm through Brittany's, leading them over to the band. With a sly sideways glance, she glanced to the stage.

"Guess what?" Rather awkwardly, Brittany clapped her hands, jolting the smaller girl.

"Ohh, what? Did something exciting happen?"

"Other than you coming back? I wish. No look who's the drummer," she nodded back to the stage. Brittany followed her gaze, not having paid attention to the band before.

Awkwardly tall, a dopey smile, and no rhythm in his head bopping.

"Finn!"

Another one of her childhood friends. The brunette halted in his playing, not at all caring that they were in the middle of a warm up number. The rest of the band didn't seem to notice or care.

"Brittany? Hi," he greeted back, grin wide at seeing her familiar face.

The tall blonde managed to free herself from Quinn before climbing up on the stage, hugging the boy for a brief second.

"How long are you here for?" Finn asked. She shrugged.

"For as long as I need to be. Which for now looks like a long time."

"That's so cool."

"Yeah. We have to catch up sometime. But you should probably get back to your playing for now," she pointed out, giggling when his eyes widened. He did just that, easily picking up where the song was.

Hopping off the stage, this time it was Brittany who linked her arm with Quinn's, as they moseyed about the commons. As food was grilling, things had started to pick up, people lingering near the food tables, kids running and splashing through water on the beac, and a group of younger teens trying to look like they weren't interested in mimicking the little kids. The pair stopped at the fire pit, chatting briefly with one of the men manning it.

"Hey Dante," the stocky man greeted someone over their shoulder after the conversation had died down. The blondes turned. Brittany didn't recognize the pair that walked up, the man was tall with dark hair, eyes, and skin. In contrast, the woman beside him was short, though she also had tan complexion, dark hair and eyes. Brittany nudged Quinn slightly, who immediately caught on.

"Your new neighbors," she whispered into the taller blonde's ear.

"I thought they had a kid?" she asked, just as quietly.

"They do," she muttered in reply. Turning towards the new arrivals, her voice picked up, as if she were well acquainted with the pair and not just in passing. That was nothing unusual here. "Dante, Sunshine. Nice to see you again. Where's Leandro?"

"With my sister," the man, Dante, answered. Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Sister? Does she live with you too?"

The man sighed.

"No. She just finished school, but is at odds with our parents, because she doesn't know what she wants to do yet. You'd think it'd be obvious, she just spent four years studying law." Here he sighed. "But I guess there are a few options in that field. In any case, she's invited herself for a vacation so she doesn't have to listen to them nag at her."

"Seems reasonable," Quinn said. Though not the best with spoken cues, Brittany sensed the slight sarcasm in her dry tone. The shorter girl shot a look at her friend as if to ask 'see? They're so different.'

Brittany just nudged Quinn once more.

"Sorry, this is Brittany. Brittany Pierce. She's visiting for a while, her grandparents host this."

"You're the author we've heard so much about," Sunshine said with an excited grin. "You're kind of a big deal here."

Brittany nodded in agreement. She knew that already.

"That's true."

"Pleasure," Dante said with a polite nod, though he didn't offer his hand. She didn't take it personally.

"Bro, you're kid is crazy."

The group turned towards the new voice. There stood a girl shorter than Quinn, but taller than Sunshine, with a pair of feet dangling over her shoulders, muffled complaints coming from her back.

"Let me down you bully!"

With a sigh, the Latina did just that, heaving the kid forward to catch him easily before lowering him to the ground. Like a shot the child took off towards his parents, hiding behind their legs.

"Ladies, this is my sister, Santana. And this is Leandro, my son."

Santana turned towards the blondes, eying them with a calculating gaze. Brittany stared, taken aback, though at what she wasn't sure.

"Hi," she said before Quinn could, offering her hand with a small smile. "This is Quinn. I'm Brittany."

With the slightest quirk of her own lips, Santana took the hand after just a moment.

"Santana Lopez."

* * *

><p>Unfortunately I have a month of solid tests coming up before school lets out (actually, it started last week), so lets just say I'm sufficiently busy. Now, as a little tidbit for you all, I had debated several ways I wanted Santana to be in this story. There was as a housewife (initially how I had planned), or as the older rebellious child that is never really talked about. I decided on this though, so yep. There you have it. Tapos na!<p> 


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